Walking Herpes William
by Cassend
Summary: I dared myself to write something absolutely ridiculous. Kinkmemefill  crack . Wesker is a bored individual who harasses William profusely.


_ABC- Happy New Years crack- this makes absolutely no sense and is intended for my sole amusement as well as whoever else finds this amusing._

_Wesker is a troll, that is all._

**Walking (Herpes) Willaim**

Wesker was bored, and this hardly ever happened to a man with unlimited means of doing almost anything. He pondered hobbies that the common everyday citizen had, like "building model planes" or "writing poetry". He pondered these things in his apartment for quite a long time, and decided that he had no idea what the common everyday citizen was. Building model planes seemed pretty obsolete and he didn't have the creative gusto gene in the list of his better qualities.

So bored and trapped in Raccoon City, a rather young Albert Wesker caught the cusp of his foot on his desk and spun around, bored to near tears in his chair. It was a rather irritating interim to wait until the morning to go back to work (After being nearly shoved out by Marcus during a tirade regarding "personal equipment" and "using one's own scalpel"). Being twenty and bored and Albert Wesker was a more than undesirable thing to be. Thus, he leaned on his palm and thought of his own personal hobbies that he could possibly entertain himself with.

Reading… biological weapons research… A friendly game of poker… hypothesizing on the best way to smuggle illegal research out of the country… Cooking a mean soufflé… he _could_ cook a mean soufflé. No, no, no, all of those were out of the question!

"Annoying." He muttered.

He berated himself quietly for the suggestions, for lack of anything else exciting to do that didn't involve a corpse on a cold slab and somehow his involvement. He didn't typically get his hands too dirty with the lab work, as dear William wouldn't let anyone near what he considered to be "his dominion of expertise".

"But back to being bored out of my mind." He said, aloud, to no one but the meticulously stacked papers on his desk, beside which sat a meticulously placed phone next to a meticulously placed pair of sunglasses. Naturally, from sheer boredom and the presence of a meticulously placed telephone, one of his favorite hobbies sauntered in and got all kinds of cozy in his cranium.

Bothering the easily irritable, absolutely brilliant, egotistical brat that was William Birkin was the absolute best way to kill boredom, and the poor young fellow was so **easily** bothered. Albert kicked his feet onto the pile of meticulously placed papers and reclined, plucking up the receiver and spinning the dial, a nasty toothy grin on his face.

"Hello?" came the near immediate response, surprising.

"William. Working late, are we?" Albert the bored questioned, and almost immediately the other man heaved an exasperated sigh and a bit of a snap to go with it.

"I don't know who this _we_ is, but _you_ got us both kicked out for the night!"

He feigned an innocence that he would never have in a million years. "I did?"

It brought the hilarity of a mad scientist and an insane trainee arguing to mind. Poor, poor William being berated by Marcus, all alone.

"You got his scalpel stuck in a specimen's femur!" William scolded, rather matter-of-factly. "Is there some vendetta against Marcus that you are failing to mention, because I actually _have things to do_!"

Albert grinned and smoothed back his hair, entertaining the prospects of a fantastic night ahead. "So, you seem to have some free time now."

He could all but see the conniption in the flesh. "Free time? Are you joking?"

"Not at all. You haven't crawled out of that hole in what was it? Three weeks?"

On the other end of the line, William glared at the receiver with hopes that it would melt his partner's face off. Unfortunately, it didn't work whatsoever. He considered hanging up right at this moment, stomping off and scribbling everything in a notebook that he planned to get done today and turning into a strongly worded letter to shove so far up his partner's ass he'd be spitting equations.

"Come on, I'll treat you to dinner and maybe we can find a girl who won't be horrified by you."

Birkin scoffed so hard he choked and downed half a bottle of water left on his desk. "Fuck you."

"-Or a man?" he added, and Birkin spat the other half of the bottle all over everything in spray radius.

"NO."

Having far too much fun with this, it seemed such a shame to end it. "I know where you live, I'll pick you up at 8."

Before he could even protest, Albert hung up and wheeled away from the desk, doing an idle victory spin with a smirk on his face. Well, that killed three minutes and promised a night that could potentially cure boredom and also be quite productive.

Although it was a bit counter-productive to have a rather irritable person irritated. Perhaps this would be solely idle "fun".

And about an hour later at eight o' clock, a rather handsome man arrived uninvited, much to the chagrin of a lanky individual named William. If he could get away with quickly punching Albert in the face and shutting the door, he would most certainly do it. Unfortunately, tall dark and handsome had the physical advantage, so the ends were still the same regardless.

"Really, that's what you are wearing?" Albert chastised, that smug little smirk on his face practically glued in place. In comparison, it was almost laughable; He in his expensive leather coat and black slacks, and William in ratty old jeans and a wrinkled to hell button up. "Did you even change?"

"No." he grumbled back. "I'm not humoring you."

"Oh, you're humoring _me_. You're just embarrassing yourself."

William shrugged. "Are we going?"

"Might as well. It's a good long walk and we want to get there before the place closes."

"You mean you didn't DRIVE?"

Wesker just flashed infuriatingly white teeth as if his nasty smile was the answer to everything.

And so, with a pair of slick black sunglasses on his head and a shivering, pissed pet genius at his side, Albert had a spring to his step and walked the longest crosswalk in Raccoon City as if it was the Red Carpet itself. Passing antique shops and bars alike, five to ten pizza restaurants, and a handful of boutiques, the urge to turn back was incredibly powerful.

"Where the hell are we going, Albert?" William finally snapped. "Do you even know?"

Of course he knew, he was always five steps ahead and the question was a stupid one.

"Please, don't you trust me?" he crooned back.

William grimaced and made sure he saw it, and nearly jumped out of his skin as suddenly out of nowhere a woman in a leopard-print leotard and pink platform heels was just **there**.

He had been paying no attention to the fact that there was a prostitute right in front of his nose and in his walking trajectory.

William's ghostly tinted skin nearly turned transparent when she turned to him. Seemingly unable to take the absolutely awkward situation, Wesker pulled him out of the way and profusely apologized for his friend's incredibly poor perceptual skills, snagging him by the wrist and hauling him another block more down the street.

"You could've told me about that!" William finally said, yanking his wrist away as his lungs suddenly began to work again. "The prostitute in front of my face in /pink leopard spots/?"

Albert snickered and pushed the glass door open to a small, quiet little diner. "William, keep your temper."

"I don't like these games, Albert."

"One little mishap and suddenly it's a game?"

Albert greets the waitress and slides into a booth near the back, pushing a menu towards Birkin and ordering a simple glass of water. This was definitely one way to kill time, eat dinner, and be a manipulative bastard, three of his favorite things in life that could loosely be considered hobbies. For a moment he ponders the morality of his character in one brief contemplative thought, and deciding that he's far too much of a swindler for morality, comes to the conclusion that morality is simply a fad.

"You ran me into a prostitute." William grumbles, flipping through the plastic bound menu and not really looking at any particular dish.

"And I'm sure she was _thrilled_."

The sarcasm dripping off his words was borderline disgusting and he got the full blow of William's "I'm too smart for this" look.

"A prostitute." He reiterates, tempted to break it into syllables to make it PERFECTLY clear that he was not exactly _thrilled _about the incident either. He was less than thrilled, he was the polar opposite of "thrilled's" second cousin "ecstatic".

"Is there something wrong with the common prostitute, William?"

Albert took an obnoxiously long drink of his water while Birkin's stare spoke for him. The moment was taken to order a delicious diner over talk of prostitution, and the waitress collected the menus with a smile and a click of her pen.

"Is that supposed to be rhetorical?"

"I find the call girl to be as equal to us as any, don't you think?"

Birkin folded his hands over one another, leaning on the table. "How is that even remotely defendable?"

"Strange costume-like clothing, selling our souls to a higher power…" he paused and drained his glass with a dashing smile to boot. "Not to mention spreading diseases illegally to our consumers."

The waitress came back with two plates of food, and felt like she just missed the punchline to a joke that the messily dressed man clearly did not understand. She smiled and excused herself wondering perpetually if the handsome blonde one was as "bad boy" as he looked.

"You're full of it." William eventually says, after the longest pause in a conversation they had to date.

Albert sliced his steak into portions in the meanwhile.

"Have you been a prostitute to say otherwise?"

"What?" –a little more loudly than anticipated, attracting one or two stares from other patrons. "No!"

The boredom was completely gone and replaced with absolute cat-like amusement. He nipped the tines of his fork, picturing the hysterical scene of William in a pair of pink heels.

"Then unless you walk in their shoes- if you can manage that…"

"What the hell?" was the only appropriate response.

"It'd be incredibly amusing to leave you on a corner and see if anyone takes interest."

Birkin picked at the leafy greens of the salad and muttered "you are sociopathic", to which Albert just shrugged, blasé as ever. The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, while Albert was on cloud nine with amusement. The unfortunate thing about the poor young fellow was that he couldn't find his way out of a paper bag, much less a city. It wasn't much his sense of direction, but the definite perception of where he was. William could tell you the chemical content of bacterium flagella in a heartbeat, but he couldn't remember street names for the life of him. The only place he could navigate successfully was his workplace, the laboratory.

So half a maze later, the streets of Raccoon City offered the chance to have a bit of fun.

"So I think it's time to go." Albert said, leading the way outside, and stopping at a streetlamp. Birkin picked at his sleeves and stopped dead in the "spotlight."

"Well?" he muttered.

"I think you should humble yourself a little."

"What?"

"Don't be coy with me, Will."

Unfortunately, William knew exactly what he was talking about, and this was also going to be mentioned in the strongly worded letter.

"I am not demoting myself to a walking herpe."

Albert laughed and shook his head. "Then you can walk home yourself."

William looked left and right and scoffed as he marched off. "Fine by me, arrogant prick."

"Will!" he called out. "Wrong way."

And at that, William let out the king of his recent exasperated sounds, something between a tribal scream and an agonized "WHY?" and turned around, sitting glumly at the base.

"Well you'll never get any attention like that." Wesker sneered, leaning on the pole, looming over him. "Why don't you try being-" He laughed as he said it. "sensuous?"

Birkin threw his hands to the air and blatantly stated. "My body is available for intercourse."

"The target audience of horny scientists is pining for you, I'm sure."

William stood and crossed his arms. "I'm completely available in every generic way possible as a whore. Come and pay me for explicit sexual acts!"

"This is not a circus, Will."

Albert frowned and shook his head, grabbing Birkin by the shoulder and turning him in the direction he had been walking.

"I will "buy" you if you promise to never say that again."

William huffed and growled, all kinds of expressions of irate, and completely ignored him when Albert handed him a twenty. All and all, as they walked home in the exact same mood they left in, Albert decided his hobbies were perfectly acceptable pastimes.


End file.
